


Beloved Enemy

by mikimac



Series: My hated beloved enemy [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Human John, M/M, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikimac/pseuds/mikimac
Summary: The time of change has come. Humans and vampires must find an agreement or they will destroy each other. In all this, John Watson's heart will be divided among the most important people of his life.





	1. When the worlds clash

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Amato nemico](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588380) by [mikimac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikimac/pseuds/mikimac). 



> This is the third part of "My hated beloved enemy". I’m italian, I’m really sorry, because my English is very bad. A sad smile asked me to translate this part. I can do it only because I’m in holyday. I apologise for all the mystakes and my very bad English. I hope you can understand the story. 
> 
> In this part, we will need handkerchiefs. So many handkerchiefs. This is a dark series and I just can not think a happy ending for our beloved characters. So leave any hope, or you who read ...  
> Now Conan Doyle can ask Dante's collaboration to persecute me!
> 
> The characters do not belong to me, but they are of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, of the BBC, of the evil duo Moffat & Gatiss and / or of anyone who holds the rights to "Sherlock". This story is not for profit. If it remembers others, I would be sorry, but it would be unintentional. However, it would also like to say that I am not the only heartwarming writer around this fandom.
> 
> Enjoy the reading.

 

Today is December 31, 2011. It seems like fate is fun to make many important things happen in my life during the end of the year. I have not written in the diary since Christmas 2008. Three years have passed, during which I was a happy man, despite everything. Sherlock and I have built up, hardly, a peer relationship. At least in the house. The faction of vampires, which is working to make peace with humans, is finding a lot of resistance to completing their own project. With a bit of regret, I have to admit that humans are also sabotaging this deal, continuing to take action against Vampires, which put those who are struggling for human rights into trouble. No one more than me understands that the Vampires have made serious mistakes and enormous mischief for us, but if we can not leave our past behind us, we will never find an agreement or achieve peace. None of the two races can completely overpower the other. If we came to the open war, we would destroy each other. I would like to avoid this. I firmly believe that it is possible to live together, even though I know how difficult it is to find a balance with the Vampires.

Sherlock and I are doing it, despite the beginning being anything but positive. Especially for me. Following the vampire laws, Sherlock treated me as if I had been an animal that would satisfy his cravings and his hunger. Now, that's not the case anymore. We have sexual intercourse, because the ampless is an integral part of the meal, for the vampires, however, I'm agreeable. I accepted to make love with the man who feeds on me and I did not regret it. I have to say that Sherlock can be a very fanciful and fulfilling lover. Together we have fun, not just having sex. Sherlock helps Scotland Yard in the most strange and complicated investigations. In addition, he is assumed by private desperate citizens, for various reasons. I'm his assistant. When it comes to interrogating humans, I always do it because they have less fear and confidence in me than in Sherlock. Also, I help him with his research and experiments. In short, we are a couple which works in a close and respectful way. We live an intense, fun, exciting, and fulfilling life. Unfortunately, when we leave the 221B of Baker Street, I still have to wear collar and leashe because Vampires have not changed the laws on the symbols of human submission to them. They can’t do it, until they come to a non-aggression agreement with members of human resistance. Humans will not make a deal until our rights are restored. A dog who bites his tail. None of the two parties want to give up at the negotiating table for the first time, not to look weak.

Today, though, I knew something that could change everything. I do not know what to think of this news. I can not understand what I'm trying to do, because I did not think I'd ever get any information about Mary and Rosie. Yet, this could be a step towards peace.

 

 

**When the worlds clash**

 

This was the news that prompted me to resume writing my diary. But I think it's best to tell everything from the beginning. Perhaps, so, it will be easier to understand the decision I have taken.

Everything started this morning when I woke up. The bed was empty, but this was not an unusual thing. Sherlock sleeps a little, even for a vampire. Instead, I had slept more than usual, because the night before we had tried a whiplash, really funny, but sparse. Sherlock is a true master in using the riding crop. Without making any pain, he used it to bring me to levels of pleasure I did not think possible when he asked me if he could use it in our "loving encounters." Of course, he fed. The orgasm and the loss of blood left me exhausted. Lately it happens often that I am very tired and almost anemic, after Sherlock has fed. I tried to talk to him, but Sherlock glints or replies that everything goes well, that everything will return to normal again.

This morning, I did not stand up just woke up, because I wanted to sleep a little bit. Hunger, however, forced me to review my plans. I should eat or I would stay weak all day long. Against it, I stood up and put on the pajamas and the dressing gown. I left the bedroom, going to the living room. I was thinking of finding Sherlock immersed in his mind palace, in planning the activities of the next few days, but he was not alone.

Mycroft Holmes was sitting in the armchair I use when Sherlock and I discuss cases or welcome clients. I could not see the older brother's face expression because he was giving me back, but Sherlock was clearly furious. The two Holmes brothers love and respect each other, but they have a very controversial relationship and it is not uncommon to argue. I wondered what might be the reason for the controversy, the last day of the year, but I did not come near, not wanting to intrude into their discussion. I was about to go back to the room waiting for Mycroft to leave, but unfortunately he noticed my arrival: "Dr. Watson, come here," he ordered, without even turning to me.

It was at least bizarre that the older Holmes called me that way. I was not exercising for years. Since Sherlock had captured me. It happened to do some autopsy or to medicate some human, but I did not practice my profession for so long, that it did not seem right to be called doctor. Anyway, I would never have a discussion with Mycroft Holmes on this topic. The last thing I would do in my life was to cause the anger of this powerful vampire, because I had learned for a long time that it would be best not to provoke Albion's Consul and his will to get something.

I watched Sherlock, who did not look away from his brother's eyes, almost challenged him to move on. Unlike me, Sherlock was severely opposed to his older brother, hoping to retire from his intentions. Of course, Mycroft did not give up on anything and never seemed weak and remissive. He was the Knight of the Holmes’ family and could not afford anyone to disobey his orders or to challenge his authority. And Sherlock was no exception. As far as I wanted to go back to the room and not be involved in their dispute, I could not disobey a direct order of the Holmes’ Knight. With much reluctance, I approached the two armchairs.

"Strip you. Completely. Get on your knees in front of me, with your face on the table," Mycroft ordered, without moving his eyes from his younger brother. His face was a mask without expression.

I became paler. I was definitely astonished and very confused. During the nine years I had spent at Baker Street, Mycroft had fed on me once, when I was just coming. He had come other times but he had never shown any interest in me. Of no kind. I looked for silent support in Sherlock, but he kept watching his brother straight in the eyes, furious.

"It's not a request, Dr. Watson. It's an order. Do not let me repeat it. I do not want to make things more difficult than they already are for you. Don’t force me to punish you." The tone was kind and friendly, but firm. A tone that would not allow replies or bargaining. Sherlock did not say a word. I knew I could not disobey Mycroft. I did not know what a Knight of the family could do, but I did not even want to find out. Between the two bad thing, I chose the minor, hoping Mycroft was fast. I pulled off the dressing gown, removed my pajama pants and slippers, leaning all in a chair, and put myself in front of the elder Holmes, as he had ordered me.

Mycroft immediately penetrated me with a finger, making it quick, followed a second, a third, and a quarter, quickly, efficiently and effectively. He did not hurt me. It was odd to know that there was someone inside me who was not Sherlock, but Mycroft was paying attention to not hurting me and I should be grateful to him. Whatever the reason he was doing this, he was trying to make it quick and painless. When he took out his fingers, I knew what would happen. I heard the noise of a zipper that was lowered and Mycroft enter into me. My heart beat crazy. I confess I was not ready. No man ever took me, except for Sherlock. And in recent years, he had my consent. It seemed I was back in the early months of my captivity. I looked up at Sherlock, holding a hand to him, looking for help. It did not arrive. Sherlock's body was tense, as if he was ready to stand up and hit his brother. His jaw and fists were contracted and locked. His eyes dared furiously. I felt distinctly the threatening, bass and guttural growl, trying not to get out of his throat, with little success. However, he did not move. He stood motionless, staring at his brother. Mycroft began to move quickly, hitting my prostate, almost shooting a target, rather than having sexual intercourse. He took my penis with one hand and moved it up and down quickly, keeping the same pace as the pushes. My body reacted to the ministration, getting excited. I also made a groan of pleasure before I bit my tongue. I felt like I was betraying my lover. As far as I knew I had no choice, I could not escape what was happening to me, I could not avoid trying absurd remorse because my body was excited and wanted more. When I got near to the orgasm, Mycroft planted his fangs in my neck and he drunk my blood. I screamed. This time, he had hurt me and made it deliberately. It was years now that Sherlock was feeding on me. I knew that vampires could bite their donors without making them feel pain. If they wanted. Mycroft wanted me to cry. He wanted Sherlock to hear me scream. And I did not even know why.

Mycroft did not nourish for long. He got out fast from me. He took my dressing gown and wiped himself. Sherlock was still sitting on his armchair, motionless. I could see his helpless anger. I did not move. I did not know if I could do it and I did not want to provocate Mycroft, who was behaving so unusual.

"Really delicious. - the Knight of the Holmes said - Tonight I have an important dinner. I have invited some Knights who could stand on my side in the Council, and vote the reform of the treatment of Humanity, without waiting for the rebels to make the first move towards peace. If I offered them to feed on John, I'm sure I'll take them on my side without having to strain too much."

"You would not ..." Sherlock snarled.

"Do not test me, Sherlock. - his broche interrupted him, in cold and harsh tone - You know it's my right to use  _each donor_  of family I considered valid for any purpose, without the owner can do nothing to stop me. According to our laws, still in use, I could take Dr. Watson away from you and turn him into my personal whore. I could give him to every vampire I want and I could let him using Dr. Watson whatever he wanted, even to convince him to stand up on my side. I do not have much time, Sherlock. Do what I have asked you or I will have to use methods that would repel me, but that I would not hesitate to use. You'll take time until this afternoon. If you do not accept, I will send Anthea to take Dr. Watson. Do not think you can leave London with him, without I will know it. You know I always control what's happening in your house."

The two brothers looked for a few minutes without adding anything else. Mycroft left. Without health.

 

 

When I heard the front door closing, I got up from the table. Sherlock was right next to me. He pulled off the dressing gown and laid it on my shoulders, lifted me in his arms and took me to the bathroom. I had learned not to ask him questions and did not object to him when he was angry. At that moment, I could see an unusual fury glitter in his eyes. I had witnessed various altercation between him and his brother, but this time it seemed really different. I also seemed to be involved in the lite, but I did not understand the reason. Upon reaching the bathroom, Sherlock put me on the edge of the tub while putting the cap and opening the water. I took my eyes on him. Sherlock knew I wanted an explanation, but he was not ready to talk to me yet. I respected his silence, aware that only leaving his times I would have all the answers. When the tub was full, Sherlock slipped into the water and sat down, stretching a hand toward me. I slipped the dressing gown on the floor and reached it. The water was pleasantly warm. I sat down between Sherlock's legs, leaning my back to his chest. Sherlock clutched me in his arms, inhaling my smell, as if it were the only thing able to appease the anger that closed his throat. After a few minutes, he took a sponge and began to wash me. The torso, the arms. He was very delicate, but always closed in his stubborn silence. I knew he was sorry for what had happened: "He did not hurt me. He was efficient and quick," I tried to reassure him.

"You screamed."

"When he fed on me. He caught me by surprise. "

"He hurt you," Sherlock hissed, furious.

"He hurts me," I sighed. It did not make sense to lie. Not to Sherlock. I was silent for a few minutes. Sherlock seemed intent on not addressing the subject, but his body was less tense, so I felt that he was a little quieter and that I could investigate: "Your brother was never interested in me, much less sexually. Why did he behave so unusual? "

"He had to make a point," Sherlock replied, evasively.

"And did not he have another way? The next time your brother want make a point, can I tell him to take it directly with you and leave me alone?" I was trying to joke, to relieve the pitiful atmosphere, dropped home after Mycroft's visit. Evidently, Sherlock had refused to do something his brother had asked for, and Mycroft had thought to punish him through me. It was a new tactic. They usually argued until they found a compromise, which disobeyed both of them, making both victorious and defeated. Although I was curious to know why Mycroft had changed the strategy, involving myself in their dispute, selfishly, I did not want that lite to ruin the celebrations organized by the end of the year. Not that we had prepared a big party. Simply, I did not want to start the year with any problems. Absurdly, it seemed to me that would be a bad year, if it began with a problem. I had never been superstitious, but since the Vampires had assumed power, I preferred that January 1 be a quiet day without any problems.

Sherlock chuckled, "You are free to do so. However, do not complain about the consequences. Mycroft has no sense of humor and could react badly to any of your jokes."

"What could he ever do, that you have not already done on me so?"

"You have no idea, John. Under his boring bureaucratic appearance, Mycroft can be very creative when he comes to revenge. Promise me you will never do or will ever say anything to cause my brother's wrath."

"I will not do or will ever say anything. To make the Albion’s Console angry you are enough," I grinned.

I felt that Sherlock was completely relaxed. Perhaps it was the effect of my joke. Maybe it was hot water. I turned to see him in the face. I fixed those eyes, of a blue so clear that it seemed transparent water. I took his cock in my hand and started massaging it, going up and down, slowly.

Sherlock tilted his head, smiling, "Have not you had enough?"

"It just seems to me that you have to claim what is yours, do not you think?" I whispered, in a succinct tone.

"Are you sure? Do you not want…"

I interrupted him, leaning my lips on his and shutting it open, so that our tongues could interweave and play, invading one another's mouth.

It was not long time since we started kissing. It happened by chance during the preliminaries for a night of sex. Our lips had met and we had tried to kiss each other. It had been nice. One more discovery of each other. From that night, kisses had entered our loving routine as an integral part of the preliminaries, but we never kissed in other circumstances. It was as if we both felt that kissing, in other situations, would be embarrassing and out of place.

Sherlock was completely immersed in the kiss and did no more resistance. His cock became hard in my hand. I turned away from his lips and let go of his cock, receiving, in return, a grunt dissatisfied. I smiled. Since we started building a peer relationship, I had the initiative to have sex. Sherlock had never pulled back or protested. He had always been enthusiastic about it, curious about what I was suggesting to him.

I stretched my legs, leaning my knees on the bottom of the bathtub, near Sherlock's sides, and I put myself on top of him, placing my hands on the edge behind his head.

Sherlock opened his eyes. The pupils were completely dilated due to excitement, and they covered the iris, hiding the light blue. I smiled at him, standing up on my knees and aligning with his erect cock. Sherlock, grabbed my hips and helped me penetrate myslf with his cock gently. I did not need preparation, thanks to Mycroft. When Sherlock was completely inside me, I stretched out to kiss him with sweetness. Sherlock rejoined with passion, embracing me as if he wanted to reaffirm his right to own my body and my soul. Slowly I moved, up and down. Sherlock took my cock with a hand, but I stopped him: "No!"

"No?" He stared at me surprised.

"I want to make an experiment. Do you want to join me?"

Sherlock made one of his rare radiant smiles, illuminating his face and eyes: "I'm always ready for everything. For science, of course."

"For science, of course," I smiled.

Sherlock took his hand off my cock. I resumed moving, finding the right angle to strike my prostate with Sherlock's cock every time he penetrated me. My cock began to react, hardening. Sherlock leaned his head to the edge of the tub, closing his eyes. My movements became quicker, as the orgasm grew and came close to its explosion. When we were both about to come, Sherlock opened his eyes, sat down, embraced me and sank his fangs in my neck. I stuck him to me, squeezing my fingers through the rebellious and wet curly of my dark vampire. We came together. As the spasm of the orgasm shook our bodies, my head began to turn. I felt the forces missing. Sherlock called me, worried and anxious, but his voice came from far. Far away. A dark abyss swallowed me.

 

 

When I got back, I was in the bed, which I shared with Sherlock. I had been wiped and dressed. I heard the voices, argue animally. They were not in the room, but I heard what they were saying.

"John had collapsed due to loss of blood, you drunk his blood immediately after you and your brother you have,  _both_  fed by him. What has passed through your head? John is no longer so young and strong that he can satisfay the food needs of two adult vampires!" Sarah was screaming, furious.

"It was not foreseen that Mycroft would make his number on John! If my dear brother had kept his fangs away from John's neck, all this would not have happened!” Sherlock replied, just as angry.

"Anyway, you know you'll have to look for another donor as soon as possible. John can not ..."

"I will not seek another donor! I will not give up on John or allow anyone to separate us. Never!"

"Sherlock ..." I called him. My voice came out weak, much more than I expected.

In a few seconds, Sherlock was at my side. He sat on the bed and passed an eye on my face.

"I'm fine. It was nothing serious. I should have had breakfast."

"I asked Mrs Hudson to prepare you for something to eat," Sherlock made a smile for me.

"I do not need to say that John can’t feed you for a few days, is it Sherlock?" Sarah interrupted him, still at the doorstep of the room.

"I have blood pockets. Thanks for coming. Now you can leave," Sherlock hissed, not looking at her.

"The blood in the pockets is not nutritious enough. You will have to wait at least a week before feeding on John. You have to find ..."

Sherlock turned to Sarah, furiously, "BEGONE!"

I saw that Sarah was determined not to let the subject fall, so I said, "Thank you for coming and taking care of me. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Sarah stared at me for a few seconds, uncertain about what to do. In the end, she sighed, “As you want, John. If you need something, do not hesitate to call me. At any time. I'll come right away," she smiled.

"I will do it. Thank you."

Sarah left. Sherlock did not greet her. He stroked me without moving his eyes from my face.

 

 

"I will be fine. It was nothing serious. I should have eaten something. I no longer have the age to ... "

"Do not tell me," Sherlock interrupted me, trying to contain anger.

"What?" I asked, really surprised.

"You're not old. Sarah knows nothing about you. She does not know how strong you are."

I took Sherlock's hands between mine. Perhaps it was time for us to speak frankly: "You know Sarah is right. That's why you're so angry. You know, soon, you'll have to find another donor."

"ENOUGH!" Sherlock's scream filled the room of despair, sucking every other sound. I could see the furious anger that filled his eyes. He was so much like pain. Did vampires feel pain when they had to separate themselves from their donor? Yet, they knew they were much longer than a human being. I had never thought of how many donors were in the life of a vampire, but there had to be many. Sherlock shook my heart. I could not bear to see him suffer. I could not bear to be the cause of his suffering.

Sherlock rose, moving away from me, turning back and shaking hands. I sigh, resigned. It was painful for him as much as it was for me to address that discourse, but we had to do it. Although we did not want to admit it, we both knew that our common life would not last long. I was not old, but I was no longer in strength, not for a young vampire and in full vigor, like Sherlock. Perhaps for an older one I would have been well. Vampires exchanged donors? Would I end up in the bed of a senior member of the Holmes’ family? Was this what Sherlock and Mycroft were talking about? Did the older brother want to assign me to another family member and find a young donor for his little brother? I felt bad. Almost I was about to vomit. If this was to be my destiny, I would have accepted it without objection. For the sake of Sherlock. Perhaps, seeing me calm and serene, he would have resigned and would accept the change, without fighting his brother. I put a hand in his fist, forcing him to sit back to my side.

"I'm not saying that tomorrow I will go. I do not even know how it works, this thing. What happens to donors, who can no longer perform their function?" I asked, curious.

Sherlock stared at me for a few seconds, "We're talking about hypothesis," he said stubbornly.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling: "By hypothesis," I gave, with a nasty puff.

"I've never had a fixed donor. You are my first ever. Usually, when consenting donors became old, vampires start looking for a substitute, someone who can meet their eating needs. It becomes very difficult if an intimate, sentimental relationship is established between the vampire and the donor. You've seen it happen in some of the cases we've been following together. Very often the human does not accept to be put aside and replaced. He becomes jealous and possessive. That is why it prefer to keep separate reports with the donor. Fall in love makes everything much more complicated."

"So we are perfect. Friends with benefits. We have fun, but no feelings are involved," I smiled, trying to be reassuring. Sherlock was serious. A lightning crossed his eyes. I did not know how to interpret it. It seemed pain, but it could not be. Sherlock could not be in love with me. As I could not be in love with him. None of us were a romantic boy. Both of us were perfectly aware that ours was not a love story. It was a friendship. A deep friendship and full of respect, one for another. A friendship that took us to take care of each other, engaging us in a complete and absolute way. We had fun together, in many different ways. With the job. With the research. With sex. It was just fun. Sherlock had to be fed with human blood. I allowed him to take my blood. Sex was a consequence of all this, the sweetness at the end of the meal. There could be nothing else. I knew of donors who fell in love with their vampire. I had seen many in those three years of collaboration with Sherlock. They were all bad ended stories. The donor, old and abandoned, ended up doing something stupid, how to take away his life or try to kill the new donor of his lover, who remained young and fascinating. We would not have finished that way. I would not let it. My heart was clenched in a painful vice, thinking that Sherlock was feeding and having sex with another younger boy, younger than me, but so things had to go. Sherlock was a vampire. Sherlock would have lived a lot longer than me. Sherlock would have other donors, other lovers. Sherlock would have forgotten about me. I ... I would become dust and Sherlock would still be the fascinating dark-haired vampire, who was now.

"The vampire looks for another donor ..." I urged Sherlock, with a loud voice, that I could keep up.

"Yes. Someone with whom he is compatible. The old donor is sent to live in some family property until the end of his life. Generally, donor and vampire do not meet anymore."

"Well, send the donors to an idyllic place, where they can enjoy a well-deserved retirement," I smiled again, encouraging.

Sherlock let out a pulled smile: "Yeah. A well-deserved retirement."

I took Sherlock's hands between mine, trying to calm him down: "It never happened that the donor was with the vampire? In short, I know you. I know you'll make the new donor go crazy, especially at the beginning. So ... I do not know ... I might stay here for a while, until you get used to the new donor. I could help you in work and research. If I can."

"And would not it bother you, feel like I'm having sex with the new donor? Would not you be jealous of being set apart and replaced with another one?" Sherlock asked irritably.

I blushed. I did not think I'd be in the house to hear moans and screams of pleasure, that they would no longer belong to me: "I could go out. Perhaps, in the room upstairs I will not hear much. I do not have all the answers, Sherlock, but we have to start thinking that I can not feed you for a long time. It's been months you know I'm getting harder to recover after you've been fed. It is not your fault or mine. It is the inevitable flow of time and life. I'm not saying that tomorrow I'll go, but we can not wait a long time, again" I shouted.

Sherlock shook my hands, almost hurting me: "You will not go anywhere! Did you hear me? I will not allow anyone to take you away from me and I will not let you go, as if there was nothing between us!"

I watched him for a long time, puzzled: "What did Mycroft want today?"

Sherlock left me and got up. I had finally put the right question.

"Mycroft is trying to get in touch with the leaders of human resistance, to try to reach an agreement with them and bring it to the Council, so that families can accept the release of humanity."

"Good. It's a good step forward," I replied wryly. I did not understand what this had to do with me.

"Mycroft has discovered that you know one of the most important leaders of human rebels."

"Really? Who is he?" I was incredulous and curious.

"It's called Mary Elizabeth Morstan and she's your wife."

My heart missed a shot while Sherlock came out of the room, slamming the door, as if a hurricane had passed.

 

 

**Author’s corner**

 

Mary and Rosie return to this part. Thanks for reading.

Ciao!

 


	2. Nuvole e lenzuola

The echo of the door slamming shut off for a few minutes and I had no reaction. Mary. My Mary had become one of the leaders of human resistance. I could hardly believe it. My Mary had always been a wrist woman, determined and strong. I knew Rosie would be safe with her. I tried to imagine Mary during the resistance encounters, trying to put in place the military, who wanted a frontal attack as she sought a confrontation with the Vampires, to reach an agreement that eventually brought peace between the two races. Or not? Perhaps Mary thought I was dead, killed by the vampires who had attacked our little village. Perhaps she sought revenge and urged that there be no pity on the enemy of humanity. And Rosie? My little Rosie ... was no little. She was twenty-one years old. She was a young woman. If I met her in the street, would I recognize her? Or would I pass by without I recognize in her my little girl? The little girl for which I read fairy tales and for which I controlled that there were no monsters under the bed and inside the closet. A shiver crossed my back. The joy of knowing that they were always safe was evaporated, leaving me an unpleasant feeling that closed my throat. Did they know about me and Sherlock? Did they know I not only fed a vampire, but did I have sex with him? Did they see my recent pictures? Did they see me as I walked for London, led to Sherlock's leash, as if I had been his faithful and obedient dog? What did they think of me? Were they ashamed of what I had become? Did they considere me a traitor, a whore, a man of no dignity and honor? Could I bear to see the contempt in their eyes? Or would it have been worse if they looked at me pityfully?

A lament came to my ears. A scream of pain and despair. I wondered where it came from. Whoever was crying, he was suffering, deep and hopeless.

I did not recognize my own voice.

 

 

**Nuvole e lenzuola**

 

I was shriveled over myself, shaking my arms around my knees. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to dissolve in the air and vanish. For the first time, since I was separated from Mary and Rosie, I really wanted to be dead. I wanted to have had the courage to commit suicide or to have provoke Sherlock in such a way that he had killed me. My daily life had led me to accept the collar and the leash as annoying but necessary. They had become an emblem of my donor status. On some occasions, they had even saved me from the unattractive attentions of some vampire a bit too insistent and intrusive. If in the early days I had considered the collar and the leash as degrading symbols of my being a prisoner and a slave, they were now entering my daily life and I almost did not notice them when I wore them. The people, which I encountered on the street, did not matter about them. Anyone, who was part of a vampire's herd, had a collar and knew what it meant. No one judged me for what I was and I did. The other humans understood how much the donors were indispensable because of the precarious balance on which the Vampire Age was based. We nourished the dominators of society, allowing our people to continue living their lives, as if the vampires did not exist. For others, after all, it had not changed much. After stabilizing their power, the Vampires had given some freedom to the Humans, who had succeeded in subjugating.

Over the years, Mary and Rosie had no longer been part of the equation of my life. After agreeing to become the lover of Sherlock Holmes, as well as his assistant and adventure companion, I had resigned myself to not have more news of my wife and daughter or to look for them. I had set the memory of them in the corner of my mind, closing it in a coffer from which I did not ever go out. The very rare occasions I dared to think of them, the pain of our separation had overwhelmed me, shaking my heart in a painful and ripping grip. To save my mind, I had carefully avoided any thought which would bring to them.

Now, however, Mary and Rosie had come back to the equation, suddenly and unexpectedly. And I could not avoid seeing myself through their eyes. Asking me what they would think about my condition. About me. I could not think of anything that was positive. I could see their eyes staring at me with contempt. Disgust. Piety. Compassion. Only their eyes. I could not retrieve their face or smile from the coffer where I had locked the memory about them. It was as if the last time I had thought about them last time had compromised my ability to recover the pieces of my memory.

Rosie and Mary had become evanescent and incorporeal images. Far away. Unattainable. Inaccessible.

Everything around me, my own memories, was centered on a single person, who had become the hub of my life and around whom I turned, like the Earth around the Sun.

My life was Sherlock Holmes. Only Sherlock. Absolutely Sherlock.

This awareness struck me like a fist at my stomach, taking my breath away.

I had canceled myself in the life of the vampire, who had captured me. I had allowed him to take full control of my body and soul.

It was useless to ask why. I did not want to know the answer. I did not want to admit how much Sherlock made me feel fine. In peace. How much he made me feel accepted, important, indispensable.

At that moment, I did not want to remember the laughs shared with him and the conspiratorial looks. The sweet caresses, unconsciously handed, as our bodies brushed, in front of the microscope or sitting on the couch. The beat of my heart accelerated when he approached me, staring at me with burning eyes, full of hunger, passion, and desire, making me feel as though I only existed in the world. As if I were all his universe.

What had we become?

Friends with benefits.

That was what I answered.Did I lie to myself? Were we just friends? Or lovers? Enemies?

Did I betray my wife? With my body, surely yes. I had made love with another being. It did not matter why I had done it. It took little care that I had never told him to love him. I had consciously accepted to make love with Sherlock, betraying the vows I made to my wife on the day we were married.

Would Mary understand? Would she forgive me?

And Rosie? My little Rosie. What would she think of a father who never  looked for her, deciding to live with a being who raped, beaten and humiliated him?

My heart beat, crazy. It seemed to be trying to get out of my body, to escape as far as possible from me, to stop suffering. My lungs could not get oxygen, because the breath was so fast that the air stopped in the throat.

If I had been lucky, my heart would stop working and I would never know what my wife and daughter thought of me.

Luck, however, decided not to intervene. My heart did not stop.

A sudden noise brought me to reality, when the door was wide open and slammed against the wall.

 

 

I felt the bang, but I did not realize what it was. Sherlock's arms wrapped me down, while his low, velvety voice cradled me, repeating the same words as if they were a reassuring lullaby, "Breathe, John. Inspires. Treat your breath. Breathe out. Breathe. Inspires. Treat your breath. Breathe out."

I do not know how long Sherlock kept repeating these words, whispering them directly into my ear. Stroking my back, with slow and light movements. His touch was gentle and delicate, not intrusive or aggressive, enough to make me feel his reassuring presence.

My body recognized that loud voice and adjusted itselfs to the words it felt. I began to breathe, restrain my breath and exhale, following the slow and regular pace that imposed on my lover's sweet and firm voice. Friend. Companion. Comfy.

I relaxed in that warm and protective embrace, loosening me from the fetal position I had assumed.

Seeing that I had calmed down, Sherlock was lying on the bed. I leaned to his side. Sherlock's arms wound me again, clutching me to him. I put my face on his chest, listening to the regular beat of his heart. It was a little quicker than usual. Did I frighten him so much?

My heart and my breath had regained the right pace. My mind emptied of every thought.

"I will not let anyone harm you. I will protect you from anyone. No one will hurt you. Breathe. You just have to breathe. I will think about all the rest. I promise you. It'll be all right," Sherlock was still whispering, in a comfortable and humble tone.

I did not know what to say. I was not even sure to be able to talk without my voice trembling. Yet, I had to tell Sherlock what happened. I had to explain why my collapse. As he had not already deduced it. From the scream I could not suppress. From the horror that had to distorte the expression of my face.

"I'm sorry. I did not want you to worry about me," I whispered, shivering.

"You should not apologize. I can’t imagine what you feel, discovering your wife."

"What exactly does Mycroft want? Why is he threatening you? "

"Mycroft managed to organize a meeting with some of the leaders of human resistance to discuss a non-aggression pact. It would be a first step to get to sit around a table and negotiate a peace agreement between our two races. To attend the meeting, Mary made the condition to talk to you before or she will  not come. From what my brother revealed to me, Mary Morstan's opinion is taken into consideration, within the resistance. If Mary agreed to sit at the negotiating table, the majority of human leaders would join her."

I stiffened, in Sherlock's arms, who held me even stronger: "Mycroft knows what Mary wants from me?"

"No. Mycroft told me that Mary knows that you live with me, but she did not tell him anything else. Just want to see you ... and talk to you privately, without anyone listening to what you say. Me neither."

Sherlock had tried to keep neutral the tone of voice as if it did not touch him. But I understood that this situation bothered him. I had felt it by the mild hesitation that he had while he was referring to what Mary had said. I felt from the way he was clutching me. It did not hurt me, but there was a sense of possession in that tight which could not escape from me.

We never talked about my family. Mary and Rosie never existed for us. My life had started again the morning when Sherlock had captured me. And I was re-born the first night I had accepted to make love with him. All that had happened before had been canceled. As if it had never existed.

The return of Mary and Rosie not only involved me, but Sherlock too. He had to know how much I loved them and how much I missed them. And he must be aware that I loved and missed them, even at that moment. Just because I did not see them for nearly ten years, it did not mean that I had deleted my feelings for them.

"If my co-operation is so important, why did Mycroft rape me?"

"I was opposed to your meeting with Mary. Above all, I do not understand why I should allow  _my_  donor to speak alone with someone  _I_  do not know. As far as I know, your wife might want to become widowed and kill you. If you are set apart, how can I protect you from her? Besides, I was sure the news of this meeting would upset you and I did not want you to suffer. Mycroft insisted, pointing out how important it is to find an agreement with human resistance. I replied that I did not care, that my only interest was your serenity. That he had not right to ask you to deal with your wife without knowing what she wanted from you. He had to find a way to force her to join his table without involving you. Unfortunately, because of our current laws, Knights have power of life and death on family donors. Obviously, if we came to sign an agreement with humans, we would be forced to change the laws on the treatment of Humanity in general and the donors in particular. What I did to you after capturing you, and the current rights of Knights on family donors, with new laws would be considered as crimes. We could not do it unless we went to very severe penalties. Mycroft wanted to remind me that _now_ , he can do anything to you from raping you and feeding from you to get you picked up and bring you to the meeting with Mary without asking for my permission and your collaboration. Without that I can do anything to stop him, while things will change if we come to peace with Humanity. My brother thinks you can convince your wife to sign the non-aggression pact. He want you to use your influence on her to take her on his side," Sherlock explained.

I burst into laughter without cheer: "Influence? What influence could I ever have on a woman I have not seen for nearly ten years? As far as I know, Mary might want to spit in my face and tell me she would have preferred me to be dead, rather than being your slave and bitch," I replied in a harsh tone.

"That's what I told my brother, even though I did not use these terms, referring to you. You are no longer my slave or my bitch. We have built what should be the real relationship between a vampire and a human. None of them should overpower the other, but we should complete each other. Just like we do. Mycroft wants you to explain this to your wife. Vampires and humans can live together."

"He has a strange way to ask for my cooperation," I mumbled, irritated.

"He just wanted me to understand that I could not say no. That he would get what he wanted. Mycroft would prefer us to present ourselves as a couple and to demonstrate what a human's life might be, if someone voluntarily agreed to feed a vampire. If we were to refuse, he would take you out by Anthea and bring you to the meeting, threatening you with any kind of retaliation, if you do not do what he wants."

"You and I are not a couple. Mary and I are. We are ... we were married. Now, I do not even know what to think. If she and Rosie despised me ... or had pity on me ... I ..." My voice died in my throat.

Sherlock snapped at me with strength, almost taking my breath off. He had gnashed his teeth. I had heard it distinctly. I hurt him, pointing out that we were not a couple. I did not want to hurt his feelings, but I was not sure what a couple was. I was not gay. I was never gay. Yet, I had sex with a man. Consensual. I would lie if I said I did not like it. This, however, was enough to make us a couple? I was back to the starting point. If we were not a couple, what were we? Friends with benefit was a stupid answer, conceived only to hide an uncomfortable truth. Love is a feeling no one of us can afford to confess. Our separation was unavoidable. Sherlock had to find another donor with whom to share everything he had built with me. I had to accept being set aside, considered old and useless. As far as the situation made me suffer, I had to suppress my emotions and facilitate this passage. For Sherlock. Because he had to continue to live. Only by smoothing our relationship would have been possible. Just denying my real feelings, Sherlock would let me go and carry on his life. This awareness, however, did not help me suffer less, to be forced to give up a man who had become so important to me.

The anguish had again taken over. It was palpable in the room. We did not see a way out. There was not. We could not escape, hide ourselves, take away our responsibilities. Anything was the price we would have to pay. I owe it to my breed. I had to give it to Mary and my broken promises. I owe it to Rosie and to her future. I had to do it myself, to remain consistent with the decision, that I had taken the night I had killed James Moriarty. I owe it to Sherlock, because it was not right for him to argue with his brother. That he suffered, for my fault.

"Mycroft is right. The only chance of salvation for humans and vampires is to find an agreement. I'll go to the meeting with Mary and I will accept anything, every insult to convince her that the resistance has to come to an agreement with the Vampires," I murmured, trying to show a security that I did not feel. I did not look up to look at Sherlock in his face. I heard him pick up his cellphone from the pants pocket and send a message. The answer did not wait long.

"The meeting is set for the dawn of January two, in an open field, just outside London."

These were the last words Sherlock pronounced for the rest of the day. He closed in stubborn mutism, but I did not complain. The silence was pleasant. Above all, in Sherlock's arms. We stayed hugged for a long time, savoring our mutual company, aware that we did not need to tell us anything, because each one knew what the other would have said.

 

 

In the last years, I learned to appreciate the security that Sherlock's arms infuse me. In those moments, it seems to me that all the problems of the world are solvable and that nobody can be injured me, physically or psychologically. Even today, I found my calm and strength to face the confrontation with Mary, tight in Sherlock's arms. I know it will not be easy, but I'm also aware that I will not be alone. I often wonder if it was right for Sherlock to give him so much importance in my life. As I have already written, we have never talked about the feelings that bind u sto each other. I know I even lie to myself, when I say I consider him a friend. At the same time, I feel I do not make him wrong. Sherlock is definitely my best friend. I can talk to him, with the confidence that he hears me and supports me, making me feel safe and secure. I never asked him what he feels to me, because it is useless and superfluous. Nothing will be eternal among us. I am a human, with a very limited life span, compared to Sherlock. Knowing his feelings for me would change this? No. None of us can do anything against my mortality. This has always been the main reason why we have never talked about what we feel about each other. Whatever we admire would not change the fact that I will soon die while he will continue to live.

We were embraced for a long time, while the outside world began to celebrate by the end of the year.

Ms. Hudson brought us some food, but she realized that something was wrong and, with great touch, had no questions, leaving us alone.

As I write these pages, Sherlock is playing the violin. He is performing the "Capricci" by Niccolò Paganini, with a very firm touch. Maybe a little too. I am surprised that the arc does not break, under the pressure it is subjected to. Music has always been his vent and his way of collecting thoughts. I've always loved listening to him while he plays. I can almost follow the thread of his thoughts. What he does not tell me in words he tells me in the notes. I perceive his concern, his anger, his fear. Which are also mine. Only I can’t reveal what I feel, because I would make things even more complicated than they already are. I can only pray for tomorrow to be all right.

Yes, tomorrow. I hear the jolly fireworks barrels, which they welcome on January 1, 2012.

It is a few days that in the main talk shows they talk about a Mayan prophecy that the world would end on December 21, 2012. Usually, Sherlock and I listened to these debates, with my vampire demolishing every theory, systematically and calculated, using a contemptuous tone, towards any supporter of any theory.

Among all these assumptions, I heard one which fascinated me. According to a young vampire whose name I do not remember, the world would not be destroyed literally. Simply, it would change society, how to interact with people. Even between Humans and Vampires. The young woman was immediately silent and opposed to propagating the ideas of those who want peace with human rebels.

But I hope that young woman is right. It would be nice if, on December 22, 2012, the dawn saw a new world where no more master vampires and human slaves exist, but all are equal, with the same duties and rights.

I do not know how much influence I can have on Mary. But I can promise that I will do anything in my power to see a society where Humans and Vampires live in peace, as do Sherlock and myself. Because I believe it. I know it's possible. It will take so much patience and much work. I know. And maybe in the new world, I can continue to attend Sherlock, even if I'm no longer his donor. I do not want to lose him. For me, Sherlock has become very important. I wish Mary and Rosie understood my relationship with him and accepted him, including him in our family. Probably I’m pretending too much, but why can not I dream? If we did not dream, we would never reach the goals we set for ourselves. Whithout dreams, we would not be human.

Whatever my wishes are, anyway, I will have my answers very soon. Already tomorrow may be the beginning of a new era. I will do my part, because I do not easily renounce my dream. I want to keep my family together. And my family are Mary, Rosie and Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s corner
> 
> The title is in italian because is the title of a song wich is by Negramaro.  
> I could not help but think that it was perfect as a soundtrack for this chapter, all about John and Sherlock.  
> I hope it does not look boring, but it seemed right to deepen the impact of Mary and Rosie's return to poor John, as well as explaining Mycroft's strange behavior in the previous chapter.
> 
> Thanks to who is reading this story and this series.  
> Thanks for kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks.
> 
> The next appointment with all the courageous people who want to know what will happen (and perhaps come to tears) is always on Thursday.  
> Ciao!


	3. L'amore si odia

My name is Rosamund Mary Watson. I’m the daughter of John Hamish Watson and Mary Elizabeth Morstan. From here on, I'm going to tell you my father's story.

Probably, many of you will be wondering why I wanted to make all my father's life known by publishing his diaries. The answer is very simple: we must remember. It is right that Humanity and vampires recall through which problems they passed before they arrive to today. If we can talk about peace, if we can sit around a table and freely express our thoughts, we must thank the sacrifice of men and women like my father, who have become unconscious intermediaries between our two races. My dad deserves to be remembered as if he were a hero. Because it was, it is and will be. Especially for me. We were separated when I was just eleven years old. The memories I have of him are far away and are likely to vanish in the mists of memory.

Perhaps, I will not remember his face, but I will never forget his smile, warm and tender. How can I never forget the warmth and security that his presence could give me. My father kept the darkness and the monsters away from my life. My father read me the fairy tales, clutching me in his arms, delicate and protective.

My dad, he was taken away from me by a monster, who raped and humiliated him.

And the monster loved my father.

Yes, he loved my father.

Because no one can ever deny that Sherlock Holmes loved my father, just as nobody can say that John Watson did not love the vampire, who had captured him.

** L’amore si odia **

****

March 5, 2002

It's still night when the sentries awaken us. The vampires have found us and are about to attack our little village. My dad kisses my mother and embrice her, as if there was no future. I'm scared. I heard telling scary things. Vampires are monsters. I do not want to be a vampire meal. I call my dad. I do not want him to fight the vampires. I want him to stay with us. I want him to run away with us. I could never condemn him if he decided to run away with us, rather than dealing with monsters. He would not be a coward. He would be a man who chose to stay with his loved ones rather than fight. He's a doctor, not a soldier. What does he know about war? My dad cares for the people, he does not kill them. My father smiles at me and takes me in his arms. His arms. The safest place in the world. No one can hurt me if I’m in his arms. His voice is firm and reassuring: "Everything will be fine, sweetheart. Do what your mother tells you and do not worry. We'll be together again soon."

I believe it. I want to believe it. Because my dad never lied to me. He kisses me on my head. He puts me to the ground. I’m cold. A lot of cold. I no longer have my father's arms to keep me warm and secure. I keep believing him as I run to the mine with my mom. I think he will reach us once we are at the collection point. He will never do it. My dad will not come back to me. That night was the last one, in which his arms tightened me and his lips smiled and kissed me. My dad is back. He protected our escape. He saved all the people who lived in our little village. But, he lied to me. It's not all right. We will not be together. Never again.

October 29, 2002

We were taken to the military base. After staying for months in places of luck, the soldiers were forced to take us to their base. There are no more secure places, outside the military bases, still in the hands of humans. Vampires have taken over everywhere, outside these protected oases. The soldiers gathered us into a big room. A tall, thin man, with gray hair and a stern attitude, enters the room: "I'm General David Robinson and I'm the commander of this base. We have lodgings which will be assigned to you, together with the basic living instructions. I know you are civil and that ..."

"There are no civilians and military, but only human beings. You will not command us all to wand, as if we were under you. You and we represent the Free Humanity. We will do everything to defeat the vampires. Together."

An irritated lightning crosses the black man's eyes. My mother moved forward, leaving me with my aunt Molly. It will happen often in the future. Aunt Molly will be a second mother, for me. My mother does not get intimidated by the intimidating attitude of the general. She knows what she wants and she will not be stopped by anyone. My mother wants to find my dad. She wants the family to be reunited. And she will not be hindered by a simple general.

"What do you think you can do against vampires, dear lady, that we have not yet tried? Do you have tactical abilities or scientific knowledge unknown to us?" The man laughs, resentful and ironic.

"Of course not. However, I am a civilian and I will be much easier to introduce myself into a city and to mix with the civilians who live there. How many of your men do you believe they can do the same? Watch them. It’s very simple to see they are military. Also, if one of us were to be caught, he would not have vital information to give to the enemy, and you would not lose skillful personnel in the clash. The only possibility we have to get out of this, is to work together. To peers. As human resistance, not as civilians and military."

General Robinson shakes his eyes. A mild smile smiled at his lips: "This is just one of your ideas, dear lady, or are there other people who think like you?"

"My name is Mary Watson. I'm not the only one to think that way."

"My name is Mike Stamford. I agree with Mary."

Other men and women go ahead. The general fixes them with indifferent gaze, but the small smile that folds his lips betrays pride for those men and women who are ready to sacrifice themselfs to regain freedom: "It will not be easy. You will have to do some training before you go out there. And who will be caught will not be rescue."

"We are prepared to do all that will be done," my mother assures.

"And it is. Colonel Moran. These civilians are under your responsibility. You train them."

Sebastian Moran shows the same age as my father. He is blond like my dad, but the likeness ends here. Sebastian Moran is much taller than Dad, has green eyes and athletic physics, which my dad will never have. I hold my aunt Molly. I want my dad. I want he to come back and tell me the fairy tales. Dad abandoned me and will not come back.

August 20,  2006

Mom returned from her fourth mission outside. She was in London. She discovered that there are vampires deployed on the part of humanity, who do not assent the laws approved by their race: "We will convince them to help us and soon we can leave this base," she tells me, trying to be positive, but her smile does not come to her eyes.

"Have you got any news about Daddy?"

She stops by the closet, turning the shoulders from me. I can not see her in face, but I see her rigid body: "No. Still no," she admits, with a sigh.

We never gave up, though, perhaps, we will never be sure he is alive or dead. There are so many humans who have disappeared, during the period when vampires have risen to power, of which nothing is known anymore. Mom and I, however, are unable to give up. To forgo to find out what happened to him. In each mission, mom searches for daddy news. Without success.

There are days when the hope of finding my dad disappears, leaving space for devastating desperation. There are days when I hate him because he went to fight against vampires instead of staying with me. There are days when I would love his arms around me, because no one else made me feel secure, just like he did.There are nights where I dream his smile and his voice, sweet and tender. When I wake up I have a happy smile on my lips, which disappears, just remember that nothing is real. There are days when I miss so much him that I can not breathe. I keep waiting for him. But my dad never comes back.

January 31, 2008

For about a year, Mom is no longer on mission outside the base. She assumed an increasingly important role within the command of resistance. She can’t run the risk of being captured. I’m happy because I was always afraid of losing her. She did not come back to me either. Like daddy. Now, however, we are always together. I come into our little flat, coming back from school. Mom is sitting at the kitchen table. She is looking at photographs. She quickly dried her eyes. She was crying.

"Mom! What happened?" I approached her, worried. I'm afraid the vampires have caught some of our friends. They killed him. It would not be the first. It will not be the last. I can’t afford to lose the people I love as they fight against vampires. Everything seems useless. Futile. Maybe we should give up and cancel us in their society. My mother tries to hide the photographs, but I can take them out of her hands.

There are two men in the photographs. One is tall, with dark hair, with sharp and pointed faces. He wears a long black coat, which emphasizes his body, lean and dry. He is fascinating and attractive. A vampire. He wrote it on every inch of his person. The other man is smaller, with blond hair, which is becoming gray. My heart jumps a shot. I know that face. I know that repressed anger, which flows just under the skin.

"Dad ..." I whispered, letting me fall into a chair.

I can’t get my eyes off that photo. _ He's alive. _ **_ He's alive. _ ** ** He's alive. ** There is something that does not go in that picture. I look better dad. And I see it. The leash. I stench the photograph, crushing it, almost destroying it. HOW DARE HE?! How dare he, that monster, bring _ my father _ around, attached to a leash, like a dog?Anger mounts within me, bringing me to tears. I stand up. My mother grabs my wrist: "It's not his fault, sweetheart. They are the vampire laws. They run around their ... the humans they feed on ... as if they were pets. It's not your father's fault, honey. If he could ..."

"Of course it's not Daddy's fault! I never thought of it! The only culprit is this monster, this damned vampire! Let's go get dad. And let's kill this bastard," I go to the door, but my mother stops me: "We can not," she whispers.

I turn to her. Incredulous. I felt bad. I'm definitely misunderstood what she said to me: "How, excuse me?"

"We can’t," my mother says, in a desperate whisper.

I look her with horror. We've been looking for dad for so long. I will not leave him in the hands of a monster, so that he treats him as if he were an animal. Why, then?

"The vampire who captured Daddy is the brother of the Consul of Albion. We will never get to him and take away John without causing the death of so many rebels. In addition, Mycroft Holmes has deployed in our favor. We can’t attack his brother. We can’t make him our enemy. We need him to be on our side if we want to get to peace with the vampires."

"WE CAN’T?! Mom, are you crazy? This is **_ Dad. _ ** What does it matterhe who is the monster who keeps him on the leash? WATCH HIM! Do you think Dad deserves to be treated like a dog? He saved us! If we are free, we have to HIM! We _ must _ save him. We can’t leave him in the hands of this monster."

"We can’t go and take him. I tried, Rosie. I thought of every possible solution, to bring Dad back to us. There is nothing we can do without paying too high a price."

I tighten my lips, angrily. My mother looks at me, begging me to understand, but I can’t. I still shove Dad's photographs in my hand. He did not resign. I see clearly his anger and his humiliation, even from those simple images. It is not fair that we abandon him. But I alone can’t do anything to save him, "I will never forgive you," I hissed, tearing my wrist from my mother's grip. I go to my room, drooling on my bed, crying, venting my frustration. I do not talk to my mother for days. She betrayed Dad, dropping him in the hands of the enemy. I do not know if I can ever forgive her.

February 15,  2008

I’m coming back to school. My mother is waiting for me, sitting at the kitchen table. She spent days in the control room. I'm still angry with her, so I do not care she did not come back to our flat. It is very clearly how tired she is. She has deep dark circles and red eyes. Like if she cried. Something serious happened. I sit at the table and fix my mother, furious: "What happened to Daddy?"

"Our informants reported that he killed a vampire, the brother of the Consul of Hibernia. He was taken to jail and then to court. Fortunately, he was dismissed from the murder charge. Indeed, thanks to your father and his vampire, a Moriarty war plunder was found against the Consul of Albion and the vampires who are in favor of peace with humans."

"What is it, you're not telling me?"

"Dad was tortured. His conditions are very serious, but he will be saved. Sherlock Holmes is taking care of him."

I stare into her eyes, merciless and implacable: "We should be _ ourselves, _ to take care of Dad, not that vampire. And guilt is just yours."

"Your dad has made enormous steps forward to peace between humans and vampires, with his actions.He saved Albion's Consul brother, he reduced our enemy to a helplessness and brought us an important ally.Your dad is a hero, Rosie. If we brought him here, we would be far from an agreement."

"I do not care about your agreements. I want my dad. Now will you ask for him to be returned?"

My mother looks down on her hands, intertwined in front of her and lean on the table.

"As I imagined," I hissed, getting up and leaving her alone, with her pain.

They will spend months before I return to address the word to her. Even today I can’t forgive her, to have left dad in the hands of his turnkey. Even thug now I know that Sherlock was no longer the monster who tortured and raped my father, I would never think that if we had taken him away, my dad would still be alive.

August 15, 2011

I'm attending a medical course. It's not a real university, but it's the closest thing they've been able to organize on this military base. There is always a need for doctors or nurses and I have decided to follow my father's footsteps. My relationship with mom has improved.

I finished a twelve hour shift in a nursing home. When I return home, my mom is waiting for me, sitting at the kitchen table. I sigh. It looks like a déjà-vu. And it's never a good sign. I let myself fall, in a chair: "What happened this time?"

Mom extends me some photographs. I look at they. I recognize the vampire who has caught Daddy. I remember his name is Sherlock Holmes. He is smiling. I can’t deny that he is beautiful. The other man in photography is also smiling. He is serene, quiet and relaxed. I can’t believe it. Dad is smiling at his jailer. And it's not a simple smile. There is something intimate, the way they look each other, where they touch, where they smile. It is an attitude that lets it suppose that there is much more to the two men than it can see.

"Sherlock Holmes collaborates with Scotland Yard and conducts investigations. Dad is his assistant. They helped several humans, who had problems with the police," Mom speaks in a neutral, calm tone.

"Why did you want I see these images?" My question is aggressive. I bold the photographs in the middle of the table.

"I want you to know that your dad is fine and that he has reconstructed a life with the vampire that feeds on him."

I see the tears in her eyes. I take her hands between mine: "You can’t blame him, Mom. We abandoned him, leaving him with that monster. Dad did what he had to survive."

"I know. You are right. It's just that ..." she pauses. It sees that she does not keep talking.

"They seem to fall in love, are not they?" I asked, in a sad whisper.

My mother shakes her head, "Yes. He knows what he has done in these years to your father," she murmurs.

I tighten my mother's hands tighter: "I'm sure he will not forget us. He is doing everything to survive and return to us."

"You are right."

Let's stay, hands of one in hands of the other. I look at my father's smile. It's not for us, but for that monster. We lost him. He will not come back to us again. And guilt is ours. Because we abandoned him.

December 29, 2011

Mom's waiting for me in the kitchenette. It seems to have become our ritual when there are important things to communicate. She has a happy smile that lights her face.

"What happened?"

"I'll meet Dad soon," she says, excited.

I sit next to her, disbelieving: "How? When?"

"Mycroft Holmes wants a meeting with the leaders of the resistance. I told him that if he wants me to go, he has to meet me and talk to John."

"What did he answer?"

"I still do not know, but he can’t tell me no. If he did, I could skip the negotiating table. It does not fit with him either."

"And what do you say to Daddy? How would you explain why we left him in the hands of a monster?"

"I'll let him know we did not forget him. I do not care what he has done in these years. That I understand very well, that he has accepted every compromise, even to survive. I'll tell him I'm going to blackmail Mycroft Holmes, until I get his release. \- Mom takes my hands and holds her tight - This time I will not fail. Dad will come back soon with us. And we'll start again. Together."

A hope. Finally a hope. After nine years of waiting. I never saw my mother so determined. I'm sure she'll do it. Soon we will be a family again.

I forgot that dreams have nothing in common with reality, which always strikes you in the most cruel and devastating way it may exist.

January 1, 2012

My mother leaves her room. I'm sitting at the kitchen table. I raise my eyes to the ceiling: "Mom! Another dress!" I snorts, exasperated.

"How does it fit?" My mother asks, anxious, turning on herself.

I smile, amused. My mother looks like a little girl who is preparing for her first outing with her boyfriend: "You're beautiful. Exactly how wonderful you were with the previous seven dresses you've tried."

"Rosie, you are of no help me! You should advise me, telling me which dress is best for me. Tomorrow I'll see John for the first time, after almost ten years. I do not want to look sloppy, old and ugly."

"Mom you are beautiful. And dad will not look at what you wear. You could show yourself naked too, and I'm sure he will not even notice it," I said.

My mother stops, stiff, in half a lap: "Do you think he matters nothing to me?"

I see the despair in her eyes: "No, Mom. I think Dad will be so nervous that he will not notice how you are dressed. He will be wondering what we know and think of him. I'm sure your dress is the last thing he care about," I reassured her.

"Tomorrow I will explain my plan to bring him back to us," she informed me, resolute.

It seems to me the right time to make my announcement: "I will come with you to the meeting."

Mom fixes me, not at all content with my decision: "Rosamund Mary Watson! You will not move from this base. We can’t trust the vampires completely. We can’t be sure it's not a trap ..."

"I'm not asking for permission, Mom. You will not make me change my mind. It's _ my father. _ I have to be there too, to make him understand that I love him and I do not judge him. You will not leave me here. I know to defend myself. This is not treatable. I'll come with you. And that's that."

Mom fixes for a few seconds, then smiles: "You're stubborn like your dad."

"This is the most beautiful compliment you've ever done to me!"

We smile, full of hopes. We hug, sure Dad will come back to us in a very short time. We do not know how much we are wrong.

January 2, 2012

Today I have reviewed my dad.

Today he smiled to me for the last time. I do not know if he understood who I was, but it does not matter, because I will never forget his smile.

Today is the day I found and lost my father.

Today is the day that Sebastian Moran killed John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s corner
> 
> The change of narrator was an obligation. Only Rosie and Mary could tell, even if in large lines, what they did after separating from John.  
> The next chapter will be the last of this story and series. You already know what to expect. You can not say that I did not notice that the happy end was not foreseen.
> 
> Thanks to who he is reading, despite the story is all but cheerful.  
> Thanks for kudos, subscriptions, bookkmarks and comments.
> 
> The title is in italian because is the title of a song of Noemi and Fiorella Mannoia. 
> 
> The end is waiting for you next Thursday, always here. Possibly in the company of a good stock of handkerchiefs.
> 
> Ciao!


	4. When the sun rises

January 2, 2012

 

We're just out of London, yet we are in the middle of nowhere.It will be the fault of the fog, which makes everything unreal.It's dawn.It's cold, but it's not snowing.Nervousness is palpable.Colonel Moran looks in the direction that vampires should come, as ifhe is expecting an attack.He was stubbornly opposed to the meeting.Moran would like us to release the atomic bombs in London and everywhere controlled by vampires, by deleting them from our world.He does not matter to the Humans, who would be killed by the explosions.Hedoes not matter to the devastating damages that would be caused to Earth's ecosystem.Moran calls them the necessary side effects.I wish he was not here.I do not like him.I do not trust him.Moran, however, is the chief of security.It was not possible to leave him to the base, because General Robinson camewith us to establish with Mycroft Holmes place and date of the first meeting between vampires and Humans.Mom is right next to me and her hands clutter, nervous.The soldiers behind me are thirsty and stiffen at every unknown sound that breaks the silence.

They finally arrive.

The vampires.

Dark shadows emerge slowly from the fog, drawing more and more out of what they are.The first, to be recognizable, is a woman.Tall.Her long, black and slightly wavyhair fall on her shoulders.She wears a simple black dress that emphasizes her perfect body.She moves safely and sinuous.She looks like a panther, ready to jump on her prey.She stops in the open space, in front of us, without saying a word.Her black eyes look at us as if she is radiographing us.Her gaze passes on each one of us, inscrutable, and stops at Moran.Hersmile is mischievous: "I'm sure you have an intriguing flavor.It would be interesting to taste you," she whispered in a melodious and sensual voice.

Moran takes his hand to the gun, ready to pull it out.

"Anthea, dear, it is not the time to joke. I apologize for my assistant. She has a sense of humor a bit special, but she will not hurt anyone ... without my order."

Mycroft Holmes appears from the fog. We all know who he is, he does not need to show up. He walks with almost regal elegance, leaning on a black umbrella. He wears a complete black three-piece, more suited to a meeting at the palace, rather than in the middle of nowhere. He smiles relaxed, as if he had everything under his control.

Behind him, two other figures appear.One is a tall, thin and dark hairedman, with an irritated expression on his face with beveled cheekbones, wrapped in a long black coat.Next to him, there is a lower, blond man, who clings to a beige jacket.He's nervous and he does not know who or what to look at.My heart accelerates the beats.I would like to meet him and throw my arms around his neck.I would feel his arms tighten to me, savoring his warmth and strength.Instead, I can’t move a single muscle.I remain starving at my father, as if he is a ghost, emerging from the mists of the past.

 

 

**When the sun rises**

 

 

BehindDaddy's shoulders, the body guards of the Consul ofAlbionappear.For a few seconds, no one talks or moves, as if each of the two groups waited for the other to make the first move.

"I think it's better to allowDr. Watson andMrs. Watson to speak privately, while we discuss the details and terms of the next meeting.What do you think, General Robinson?" Mycroft Holmes breaks the silence.

"I agree," Robinson nods, nodding at my mother.

"We can go under that tree," the mother suggests, pointing to an oak that stands majestically and lonely, not far from us.

"Um ... okay," Dad replies, with a shy smile.

The vampire at his side emits a kind of grungy incomprehensible, as if he were reiterating an already-exposed concept, of which we know nothing.It is clear, though, that he disagrees with and disapproves of that meeting.This increases my hostility towards the monster, which has separated me from my father.How dare he oppose a family reunion that he has destroyed?What right does he think he have, to prevent my dad from talking to us?I clutched my fists to stop me from knocking him on, as he deserves.I do not want to give him an excuse to take Daddy away before Mom and I can explain him what we think we do to bring him back to us.Dad touches the fingers of the vampire.Sherlock Holmes, grabs his hand, twisting him tightly.Dad reverts the grip, reassuringly.They do not look in their faces.Their exchange is limited to the simple one grip.Yet, it is as if rivers of words have been exchanged.Their intimacy, their confidence, their complicity, come from that small and insignificant gesture.Mom and I have taken it for granted that Dad wants to be with us.Suddenly, I wonder if Daddy will accept to return to live with us or if he would prefer to stay with the vampire.

"I would like to inform you that Dr. Watson is wearing a collar with a poisoned needle.There is no way to remove it.If you try to take him away..."

"We know," Mom says, interrupting the eldest Holmes.

"I just wanted to be sure, before anything happened ... unbecoming."

Dad leaves the hand of the vampire and takes a step toward my mother, who smiles at him, reassuringly.Moran put himself among them, determined not to move: "No one will go anywhere, until I have searched this man."

"Search me?Why?" Dad is shocked.

"We can’t know what lies under that jacket. He could have a bomb and get blown up, to kill one of the leaders of the resistance," Moran replies, in a harsh tone.

"I would never hurt _my_ _wife,"_ Dad exclaims indignantly.

"Dr. Watson is kind, make happy the colonel.We have nothing to hide.Anthea, of course, will look for Mrs. Watson.What is right for one, it is right that it also applies to the other," Mycroft Holmes intervenes, in an accommodating tone, which does not allow replies.

"It seems to me right," Robinson agrees.

Sherlock seems to be protesting, but Daddy still touches his hand, always turning to look at him.Sherlock snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, his face faced with a bronze worthy of a willful child.I can’t hide an amused smile.At that moment, my gaze is intersecting with that of my father.He smiles at me.He understood why I was laughing at his vampire.He raises his eyes to heaven, as if to explain to me that this is his habitual behavior.

Dad has always been this way.He never needed a lot of words to explain what he was thinking or trying to do.His face has always been very expressive.Every emotion and every thought was painted on his face, obvious, visible and comprehensible to all.

We're still looking ateach other when the dad's body stiffens.The smile disappears, replaced by an expression of incredulity and surprise.

And hell bursts.

 

 

As Dad and I change the accomplice smile, Sebastian Moran begins to search for him. He raises his arms and loosens his jacket, palpating daddy's body roughly. Before anyone can figure out what's happening, the colonel pulls a dagger from the sleeve of the uniform and pushes it in my father's abdomen with a quick gesture: "Die, damned bastard! There will be no peace with the vampires. I will not let you become us all slaves of them and bring us to ruin!" Moran cries, furious.

Sherlock drifts over to Moran, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him from the ground, at least a meter, without making any effort.He gives a low, deaf, fierce, wild snarl.The soldiers fought among vampires and General Robinson, pulling arms and screaming at Sherlock to leave Moran.The beautiful vampire puts hierself between the Consul of Albion and the soldiers, while the other vampires have formed a semicircle in front of their boss and scream to the human soldiers to lower their arms.Mycroft Holmes cries to his brother to leave Moran, and orders him not to kill him.He begs him not to kill him.Robinson screams at his men not to shoot.Mom kneels beside Dad, who has fallen to the floor.She calls him desperate.Sherlock's face is deformed by fury, which has overwhelmed him.He really looks like a fiery beast, thirsty for blood.The two fronts face, ready to trigger a massacre.I can’t move.I'm paralyzed by the horror of what's happening.Peace has never seemed so distant, as at this moment.Suddenly, Sherlock's features relax.Fury and anger vanish, replaced by devastating pain.Sherlock launches Moran, as if he were a rag doll, and rushes to my dad.Later, Mom will tell me what Daddy called him.A whitish whisper, unbelievable, in that chaotic cacophony of voice.For anyone, except for Sherlock.

The soldiers take away Moran to secure him, but Robinson remains in there: "Colonel Moran did not receive orders to kill Dr. Watson nor informed me of his plans.This was not supposed to happen.You must believe me, Mr. Holmes.We are really seeking an agreement for peace."

"I believe you, general.Even among the vampires there are many who do not approve of this attempt to dialogue between our races and who would do anything to send the negotiations up.It will not be easy to achieve our goal."

Finally, my legs are moving and I rush to my father.A large red spot smudged the beige jacket, just above the abdomen.I can’t realize it's my father's blood.I do not want to figure out what's happening.Mom keeps dad in her arms, holding his head.Sherlock shakes his hand and caresses his hair: "Now we are reporting to you in London.You will quickly put it back," he murmurs softly.

Dad smiles at him, "I'm a doctor, do you remember?I know what my conditions are," his voice is a whisper.He's struggling to talk.

"John... will he pay... I will not…"

"No!You do not have to ... peace between ... our races is ... it's more important than one man's life.Promise ... promise ... that you will not do anything ... against that man.”

I see hesitation on Sherlock's face.I understand what he is trying to do.I myself would like to kill Sebastian Moran with my hands.

They look in the eyes.The pain of Sherlock.My father's agitation.

Sherlock is the one who speaks: "I will not do anything that can compromise peace.I promise you, John."

My dad smiles. Helooks with love to both people, who are beside him.His expression is serene when his chest stops rising.Mom mourns, desperate.Sherlock's scream has nothing human.I ... I do not know what I feel.I feel emptied of all emotion.Daddy smiled tome before Moran had stolen him.I will never know if he has recognized me.

 

 

January 3, 2012

 

There is a small chapel near the clearing where the meeting took place.We made up the dad's body inside.General Robinson and Mycroft Holmes reached an agreement for the first meeting between Humans and vampires.It's a great achievement.I just wish Dad was here to attend the meetings as a representative of donors.I've seen his relationship with Sherlock.He would have been the best to plead their cause, to explain the relationship between the vampire and the human being, who nourishes him.

Mom and Sherlock are inside the chapel, but they are ignoredeach other.Even if they are accrued by the same pain, even if they are crying the same person, they are sitting away.They lost the man they loved.Still, they can’t comfort each other, because each of them feels the other as an intruder, someone who does not have the right to be alongside myfather's womb.They tolerate the presence of the other and they do not hunt, just in respect of my father's memory.

I'm on the door, leaning against the jamb. I watch the dawn, which is illuminating the plumbean sky. Soldiers and vampires are making to prepare the pyre, on which we will burn the daddy's body. My dad will have a funeral worthy of an ancient hero. His ashes will be dispersed in the wind. We are contended him in life, no one will have his body in death.

Mycroft Holmes approaches the chapel. He greets me with a nod of his head, and enters in the chapel: "We are ready," he announces, to no one in particular.

Neither Mom nor Sherlock move.TheeldestHolmes awaits, patient, that someone confirms that they can proceed.No one looks at him or talks to him.

"You can come and take him," I tell him.It's the first words I've ever spoken since we left the base.They explode in the silence, attracting Mom and Sherlock's attention.They have the same desperate look.That of someone who is not yet ready to let the loved one go.I feel the tears pinching my eyes.Pain, for the loss of Dad.Anger, because the monster who tookhim away from us for ten years, has no right to grievefor him.I lean back to tears.I can’t collapse.Mom only has me.If I collapsed, mom who could lean on?I approach her and shrug her shoulders with oneofmy arm: "We must let him go, Mom.This is just a body.Dad will stay in our hearts.Forever."

Mom takes my hand with one of her: "It did not have to go this way.I was sure I could take him home.I'm sorry, Rosie.I'm sorry…"

"Dad is at peace, Mom. No one will hurt him anymore. "

"Can we pick him up?"

I turn to the door of the chapel. Robinson was talking. There are some soldiers with him. I look at Mom. She shakes my hand even harder. I smile. I do not know how I can do it. Mum sighs: "You're right, darling. It’s time."

The soldiers lift the body, leave the chapel and lay it on the pyre.Sherlock and his brother followed us.The beautiful vampire, Anthea, gives something to Sherlock.It looks like a violin's case.The general gives mother and me of torches, with which we putthefire on pyre.As fire spreads, I hold my mother in a hug filled with anguish.She hides her face in my shoulder.Silent sobs shake her.I can’t hold back the tears anymore.It is then that I hear it.A gentle, painful, burning music.I do not know it, but it comes directly to my heart.It expresses the same pain and despair I feel.My own sense of loss and loneliness.I just turn around to the player.Sherlock’s eyes are closedand is focused on his music.Illuminated by theflamesofthe pyre and dawn lights.Surrounded by a red bush, which makes almost materialthe emotions, which he transmits through the violin.I can’t take my eyes off that vision.Is this what Dad saw in his jailer?A man full of passion and strength, devoured by his own vital energy.The music ends with a last painful note, which seems to say, "I miss you." Sherlock throws the violin between the flames and looks at it burning, along with my dad's body.Silence is overwhelming, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire.Sherlock's face is a tough inscrutable mask.Unlike Daddy, you can’t understand what he is trying to do.It is as if on that pyre it was burning his heart.

 

 

February 14, 2012

 

It is strange the date chosen by Holmes and Robinson for the first meeting. I do not think they are two romantic men. Most likely, they did not think of the day of lovers, but only the first useful date to bring everyone around the negotiating table, in safety. I accompanied my mom, but I did not attend the meeting. I’m waiting in the atrium, along with bodyguards. Mom and I are surviving Dad's death. There are times when we deceive ourself that he still lives in London with his vampire, and we do not suffer, but we are waiting to meet with him. Others where the awareness of his death strikes us like a fist in the stomach, taking our breath away. Fortunately, we have one the other, or I do not know how to overcome these atrocious moments.

Mom has gone into negotiation now.She is putting all her energy in trying to reach peace.That was what Daddy wanted.It's her mission, to find the courage to get up every morning and move on.I support her, because I know it is what she needs.

I do not hear him coming.We have not seen him since the funeral.His voice is low and deep: "Miss Watson?"

Iturn around and I find him in front of me.He's paler and slimmer than I remember.Deep dark circles areunderhiseyesand cheeks are even more pronounced.It seems as if Dad's fire is still consuming him.I bend my head, "Mr. Holmes.Do you attend the meeting?They have just begun."

He does not answer me right away.He looks at me, as if looking for something: "You have John's eyes."

I blush. I do not even know why. Mom also told me I have Dad's eyes. I expect him to continue. Sherlock extends me a package. I look it curious.

"It's the diaries that ... that ... your father ... wrote in these years.I'm sure he would be happy if he knew you had them.I hope you likes to read them.It's a way to know him and know what has happened to him in these years.I know you will make a bad opinion of me and I can’t give it a bad one.However, I would like you to understand how much he has become important to me.I would like to go back and delete certain things I did, but I can’t.I would also like to apologize, but it's too late ... too late ..."

I look the unbelieving package.My father's diaries.His thoughts.His feelings.I stretch out a shaking hand, "Thank you," I murmur.I pack the package to my chest.I do not know what to say.

"Have a good day, Miss Watson," Sherlock greeted me and turned to leave.

"Wait, Mr. Holmes," I recall, quickly.

Sherlock stops and looks at me, curious.

"Are you sure you do not want them back?I could make a copy and ..."

The vampire looks away: "Thanks for the offer, but I do not need them. I ... I ... I have my memories. That's enough for me."

I have the impression that he do not tell me everything, but, in fact, I do not care much about it.I have daddy’s diaries.That's enough.I watch the vampire move away.I envy the memories he has with my dad.I hate him to take him away, for keeping him away from me and mom.I have heard terrifying stories about the way the vampires deal with the humans that they have captured.I can’t imagine what might be written in the diaries that I cling to my chest.Yet, in the deep, I'm sorry, because he is also suffering for Dad's death.

 

 

21 December 2012

 

After months of exhausting negotiations, the non-aggression agreement was signed. It is the first important step towards an integrated society of humans and vampires. Now the really difficult part begins: to create a single society in which humans and vampires can live on equal terms. Who knows how much it will take, to make sure everyone agrees. We will think about it tomorrow. Today we celebrate the goal achieved. The party is held in the building Mycroft Holmes has built in the place where Dad died. In this same place, meetings will be held where the future will be sought. The main room is furnished with a single round table, around which are the chairs of the representatives of the various factions. In a corner, lit by the light coming from the windows, there is a niche where a statue is in place, still covered by a white cloth. Mycroft Holmes puts himself in front of the sculpture and clears the voice to attract the attention of the present: "Ladies and gentlemen. Today is a memorable day. We have reached an important milestone, but we are only at the beginning of a long journey. During this journey, we will experience difficult times where we will not see any way out. That is why I decided to put a statue in this place to remind us of what the goal we are going to achieve. I wanted to call it the 'Statue of Friendship' and I hope it will be a great source of inspiration during the months of hard work that await us." Mycroft Holmes pulls a piece of linen, discovering the statue of white marble. Two men, a vampire and a human, look into their eyes, smiling and shaking their hand, in greeting gesture. The audience applauds, with great smiles and assent. I am surprised and confused. I recognize the faces of the men who were carved in marble.

John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

"I hope you do not mind, if I used your father's face, for the statue. When the sculptor asked me what features he should give to the two friends, I could not think of them. I do not know anyone, which could represent friendship between our breeds better than my brother and his father."

I did not realize that Consul of Albion had reached me. I turn around and smile, "I can’t say you are wrong, Mr. Holmes. I am convinced that Mom will approve of your choice. Did they tell you that she could not come because of a bad influence?"

"Yes. I hope she will be fine soon. Her presence in the negotiations will be important."

I look around, curious and somewhat surprised: "Did Sherlock not come?"

Mycroft Holmes looks away from me, shifting it to the statue, representing his younger brother.His answer is a sad whisper: "Sherlock is gone."

He does not add anything else. I fix him, confuse. I do not know how to react. What to say. Mycroft Holmes gets himself as if he's back from a far away place. He gives me a tired smile: "Excuse me, Miss Watson. I would like to stay with you, but I must take care of other guests, though some are really less charming than you are."

"Yes, of course ... thank you ..." I stutter.

The Consul has found his usual disposition, helpful and friendly.I look at him as he moves away from me. He smiles and talks, passing from one guest to the other.

"It was a rare illness," the deep and melodious voice comes from my shoulders.I  let me face it.I am in front of a young man, who shows about thirty years.He is tall, thin, with clear green eyes and short reddish and wavy hairs.The lips are a thin line, set in a melancholy smile.The cheekbones are tall, but less sharp than those of Sherlock.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sherlock.He was killed by a very rare illness, affecting some vampires.We do not talk about it.It makes us look weak and fragile.Sometimes the relationship between vampire and donor is so deep that it becomes almost symbiotic.When the donor dies, the vampire can no longer feed from another human being.He seems to betray the previous donor.The taste of blood does not satisfy him anymore.There is no way to force a vampireto feed.Those who suffer from this illness die slowly, starvation.It is a painful agony, both for those who let themselves die and for those who are assisting in the slow flight of a loved one, helpless."

"Why are you telling me all this?Who are you?"

"It's right for you to know what happened to Sherlock because you are John Watson's daughter. You are a member of our family. And the family must stay united. Especially in pain. I am Sherrinford, the youngest of Holmes brothers. I met your dad, during one of the rare visits my brother Sherlock did to our atavic residence in Sussex. I know you will not be happy to tell you about the relationship between your father and my brother. I can understand that you do not approve of it and that you believes my broche is a monster who has taken your father away from you. What you think, however, does not change the depth of the bond that united Sherlock and John. Your father was a good man, with a great heart and infinite patience, who was able to conquer my brother's trust and respect. I've never seen Sherlock as happy and serene as he was with John. It is the only consolation we have. He would see him happy before the end."

Sherrinford's words leave me breathless. Family. For the Holmes we are a single family. I would like to rebuke him that I can’t say the same. That his brother stolen me years of life, which I could share with my father. That Sherlock's happiness was based on my pain and suffering. That the love my dad had donated to his jailer had taken it away from me and my mother. I do not have time to say anything, because Sherrinford smiles me cordially and makes a slight nod with his head. He reaches Mycroft and puts himself to him side. I look at them, furious. Family. That vampire does not know what they are talking about.

 

 

January 1, 2020

 

So much we wanted to get to peace. But we did. Dad's dream has come true. Today begins the Age of Earth. That is how this era will be called, in which vampires and humans will live together, as one race. Mom and Mycroft are part of the first government.

I was often asked what my feelings were to Sherlock.He was definitely a monster.He hurt my father.Still, no one can deny that the rare illness, which kills some vampires, has a precise name, even though they do not want to recognize it.It's called love.Probably, for most vampires, it's inconceivable to fall in love with the being they feeds on.It's as if a human fell in love with a cow.That is why they do not talk about it and they do not accept it for what it is.A strong and indestructible feeling.Something so profound that leads to death, when the inevitable separation between human and vampire arrives.

When Sherrinford told me of Sherlock's death, part of me was happy.To know how much he had suffered, it seemed to satisfy my desire for revenge for everything Sherlock had done to my dad.On the other hand, another part was grieved, because I had lost the only person who could have tied me to years that I could not live with my dad.Besides, I could not forget the last words from my father's diary.He would have wanted us to become a family.That we were all together.The people he loved.Mom, I and Sherlock.

It seemed tometo make a pity on my dad, hating his vampire.As far as this hurt me, I know my dad loved Sherlock, which was important to him.Sherrinford is right.If I really want to honor my father's memory, I must accept that the Holmes are a part of my family.Now, anyway, it's not hard for me to think of them this way.Over the years, I've been to Sherrinford for a long time.We found ourselves well together.We fell in love.And we got married.We have become one of the first couples legally recognized by the new laws on inter-races unions.Mom was not enthusiastic about my choice, especially as it seemed to her that another Holmes had taken away the only person who remained in the world.Now, the idea of becoming a grandmother makes her happy.Sherrinford and I are expecting our first baby.Yesterday we knew he is a male and decided to call him John Sherlock Holmes.In memory of great friendship and deep love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corner’s author 
> 
> This series, really intense, ends here. It has been a long and painful tale that has cropped in over three months. Thanks to all of you who have followed it consistently, despite the presence of certain passages that are not very light. Thank you for comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks.
> 
> From now I will dedicate myself only to the reading.
> 
> Ciao!


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